


spare me

by choicolatte



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, jackjae angst with an ambiguous relationship, slight canon compliant 'verse, star-crossed but does it end up well?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choicolatte/pseuds/choicolatte
Summary: But there’s always that meteor ruining the beauty of what they could have been. There’s always a photoshoot to complete, a song to revise in the studio, a sudden guest appearance in another country, another man to love and chase after.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Jackson Wang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	spare me

**Author's Note:**

> prepare to be in pain(?)

“Hey, Youngjae?”

A pause. 

“Yeah, hyung?”

He hesitates. Just a little bit longer. 

“Nothing,” he says through a smile. It pains him. Just a little bit more than last time. “I just wanted to hear you.” 

This time, he doesn’t wait to respond. “You’re so weird.” 

In the darkness of the room, Jackson didn’t dare close his eyes. He didn’t want to miss anything about Youngjae, no matter how impossible it was to see without light. But this time, he finally flutters them shut. It felt better to imagine the good times than wait for them to happen in reality — where it was just pitch black. 

“Are you finally asleep, hyung?” He speaks up again. Jackson was almost content with the Youngjae he conjured up in his mind: cheerful, positive, and not owned by someone else’s selfish intentions. However, anything Jackson can get from him, he will take. 

“No. Are you starting to feel sleepy?” Jackson didn’t want to ask because prompting him this way will lead to more questions, and those questions lead to answers he refuses to hear, and accept that they’re most likely reasonable — not something he should argue with or defy. 

“Kind of. He hasn’t texted back yet, though…” 

And there it is. The sting of ambiguous words that Jackson doesn’t need to think hard through to understand who Youngjae is talking about. The mere existence of their situation makes Jackson’s sense of humor lace itself with such irony, malice, and self-pity. Some of them had noticed — barely — but at this point in time, Jackson doesn’t give a shit anymore. He’s so tired. He rarely admits to exhaustion, especially the emotional kind. He always pushed himself to see the better things, the success in his future. The tiny, scrutinizing details shouldn’t deter him from moving forward. 

But with Youngjae, it was different. Way different than Jackson had anticipated the first time he felt this way about him. 

“Don’t wait up on him,” Jackson states simply. They’ve been here before, and Jackson knows it can only lead to two things which are always dependent on Youngjae’s mood. Jackson hopes that he didn’t anger him tonight; that he didn’t hit a nerve thus cutting off their communication for a good week with exception of when they _need_ to be civil with one another in front of the others. 

Youngjae is quiet once again which Jackson is familiar with now. Some nights, the moment Jackson opens up his door, he already knows Youngjae is just asking for a place to stay — with someone else in the room but not really have a conversation. Jackson will offer extra blankets and pillows, and lay them out neatly on the edge of his bed. 

Youngjae always has a choice with Jackson — the older makes damn sure Youngjae never feels cornered or taken advantage of for his presence. But usually, Youngjae doesn’t even give the extra stuff a second glance, and just looks at Jackson with those pleading eyes that say everything he needed to. Instead, Jackson lets him rummage through his drawer, and takes out extra pieces of sleeping garments to change into. 

Jackson will wait for Youngjae to slip under the covers because Jackson doesn’t want him to think that he’s already assumed his position in bed. Youngjae will pout, and Jackson will let it linger a little bit just to see him be playful like that. He thinks Youngjae knows this little trick of his already, but every night it happens he never disappoints. Jackson is glad, he doesn’t think that the night can go by smoothly without seeing a glimpse of Youngjae’s glimmer. 

Then again, there are other nights when Youngjae is restless. When, the moment Jackson hears frantic knocking against his door he already knows that he can’t be in the room. That, Jackson has to bring in the extra blankets and one pillow for himself on the couch. Youngjae will enter, won’t bat Jackson a single glance and go straight to his fridge for his stash of liquor. 

Jackson feels guilty. If any of the members find out what he has been providing Youngjae with, this escape through alcohol, they’d be sorely disappointed with him. He hates keeping secrets, but for Youngjae — he found that he can’t risk it if he wants to keep him visiting his apartment. Even if it was in this way sometimes. Even if it never meant anything more than just a way to escape, and not necessarily an invitation for something more. 

“Sometimes, I feel stupid for doing it.” 

Jackson opens his eyes slowly, widening them in surprise. This wasn’t part of the script. Youngjae is a lot of things, but he is mostly stubborn. He’ll deny the fact that alcohol makes him red in the face, and have him either sobbing into Jackson’s shirt or laughing until his stomach hurts. He’ll deny eating the last piece of pizza on the counter when it was reserved for Jackson who had to come back from a shoot a little later than usual, only to give him a cheesy smile and a promise to pay him back with a night out to his favorite restaurant. 

He’ll deny being a fool for someone who doesn’t see his quirks as lovable like Jackson does. He’ll refuse to see himself being walked on, ignored, forgotten at times by the person Youngjae continues pining for. All this time. 

“Doing what exactly?” 

“Caring too much about him. It gets… a little exhausting,” Youngjae exhales a shaky breath, his fingers beginning to feel clammy. Jackson tries his luck, searches for the familiar warmth he yearned from the younger. Their pinkies touch, and Jackson continues to slide his fingers through the gaps, attempting to squeeze them together. 

In a thumping heartbeat, Youngjae intertwines their fingers. But just as soon as it started, he let them go just as easily. 

Jackson inhales but keeps it in for longer. His hand suddenly feels cold, unwanted. It rests on his side, limp. 

“I’m glad you’re always there for me, hyung. I really don’t know what to do without you,” Youngjae offers him. He sits up, knees drawn to his chest and back against the headboard. “I’m sorry for putting you up to this for so long.” 

“For as long as you need me, Youngjae,” Jackson wants to tell him — he always does. He never wants to make Youngjae feel alone, unwanted or unloved. The last thing he wants is for Youngjae to realize by mistake that no one can love him the way he wanted. 

Jackson always has, always will. The cameras tell a different story, once called them the Tom and Jerry duo of the group. It’s the half-truth of their relationship with Jackson loving the way Youngjae plays hard to get — with Jackson secretly enjoying the fact that it usually seems like they’re pinned against each other in friendly competitions and the like. It’s more time for him to talk to Youngjae publicly, and without question. 

The other half: Jackson thinks they’re star-crossed individuals. Not lovers nor friends, but two individuals who will never be on the same page with each other, but Jackson continues to catch up to Youngjae. At one point in their lives, it may have been so perfectly aligned. 

But there’s always that meteor ruining the beauty of what they could have been. There’s always a photoshoot to complete, a song to revise in the studio, a sudden guest appearance in another country, another man to love and chase after. 

“You don’t have to make me put up with it, you know.” Jackson sits up next to Youngjae, exhaling the long held hesitation in his throat as his hands fiddle with each other, nervous to make the first move. It is still so dark, uninviting, but looking into Youngjae’s eyes was enough security for Jackson. 

Youngjae doesn’t answer. 

A phone buzzes on the bed. Jackson knows it’s not his, and dreads the fact that Youngjae has to leave. Again. And the cycle continues. 

Before he can reach for it, Jackson stops him and places his hands on top of Youngjae’s. They’re facing each other now, their eyes trying to adapt itself into the uncertainty that the dimness of the room is illuminating their bodies with. 

“Hyung, it may be him—”

“If it is, are you sure it’s a message you want to read?” Jackson retorts, aware of how it usually is for Youngjae. These days, Youngjae is becoming more and more of a tenant in his apartment than just a frequent guest. It isn’t as if Jackson is irritated, in fact he wants nothing more than to take care of him, really be with him the moment they wake up and tuck him in bed before they fall asleep. Together. It’s so perfect that Jackson knows it can’t happen because of one fucking text. From one man. 

“I have to read it either way,” Youngjae knows what Jackson is talking about, but he’s stubborn. He won’t admit to the likeliness of it, he’d rather get hurt at face value than save himself from the obvious. 

“You don’t _have_ to. You have a choice, Youngjae. Just like you coming into my apartment, being like this, you have a choice to feel better about yourself.” 

“Are you insulting me right now?” Youngjae tries to pry his hands away, but he is getting the wrong message from Jackson. The older just grips on them tighter, face inching closer to his. 

“God, Youngjae. I’m not. Look at me.”

“It’s hard to see.” 

“Because you have your eyes closed, idiot.”

“I know you’re right in my face, hyung. I can feel your breathing on my cheek.” Youngjae says it as a fact, but his voice wavers as if he was doubtful. Jackson feels drawn to the way Youngjae looks, a slight streak of the night sky passing through slits of the curtain that hits the middle of the bed. 

Youngjae is ethereal, to say the least. His nose curves longer than Jackson’s, and sits cutely on his face. His cheeks never lost their fluff despite his weight loss, which Jackson was so thankful for him succeeding in. His hair never faltered from the utmost shine, the lightest bounce atop his head. He’s ran a hand through them countless times when Youngjae was too shitfaced to care, it was the only moment Jackson can confidently touch him that way. Carry him to the bathroom he usually kept spotless, and wait until Youngjae finished throwing up whatever he needed to. Carry him to the sink, have him lean over his shoulders and help wash up his face. Carry him to the bed, and sing him one of the lullabies Youngjae would usually serenade him with on a different night. 

Jackson wishes he can rewind to those memories. As much as they were far from ideal, at least Youngjae let Jackson take care of him. 

“Stay here tonight, Youngjae. He’s not going to care. Trust me.” 

Youngjae squeezes his eyes shut, really forcing his way out of Jackson’s grasp. He whimpers, and the older finally releases. But Youngjae doesn’t immediately go for his phone, and Jackson is confused. 

“You don’t know that. He’s nice. He really is, he just… he just needs time.” Youngjae flutters his eyes open only to look down on his knees, avoiding Jackson’s presence altogether.

“To what? Realize he’s playing two different guys? Youngjae, he’s toxic. You’re not even official, he’s been with two other men during the time you’ve started seeing him,” Jackson exasperates, hoping to let Youngjae understand where he is coming from. 

“And we are?” Youngjae snaps at him, the burning in his chest transfers around his eyes. “We’re not a thing either, hyung, so don’t act like you need to protect me.” 

“Really, Youngjae? That’s what you’re getting from this?”

“I told you I appreciate you being there for me, but I never force you to. This is what I didn’t want happening — for you to feel like you need to tell me what to do about him.”

“Goddamn it, Youngjae. I’m giving you a choice! I always have — I’ve always been a choice, you idiot. Why do you always go to me when he leaves you on read? Or when he tells you he’d pick you up after a few hours of practice but never shows up? You go to me instead, right? Isn’t that a choice you make?”

Youngjae is speechless, and Jackson regrets putting this on the table at all. Youngjae can be stubborn, but what others might know understand is that he can be fragile, too. 

“Then I’m fucking sorry that I thought I can trust you.” 

“Youngjae,” Jackson deadpans, spinning Youngjae to face him once again. He’s defiant, a little tough on the shoulders but he doesn’t look away once his eyes land on Jackson’s desperate stare. Youngjae is scared, he never wanted to be in a _real_ fight with Jackson, ever. Out of everyone, he’s always been the person who stood up for him, understood him, and accepted him. 

“Why can’t you choose me?” Jackson never wanted to seem desperate, out of options on how to tell Youngjae how he feels. But he’s running out of time, and if he’s not careful Youngjae might never set foot in his house, or his life this way, ever again. 

“What do you mean by that, hyung?” Youngjae asks slowly, words feeling like lead on his tongue. He sees the struggle in Jackson’s features, the quivering of his lips. He feels like he knows where this is going, but his mind is telling him to stop Jackson right now before it is too late. 

“I can treat you so much better than that asshole, Youngjae. Fuck, you make this so hard to say”

“Then, just — show me.” 

A pause. 

Jackson knew he shouldn’t have, but his hands have already found itself cupping those cheeks he had always admired. Youngjae has let himself fall limp under the older’s touch, mesmerized by the way his words held so much conviction hidden in that tone of uncertainty. He’s never heard Jackson sound so unsure before, it terrified Youngjae to think this could have been the end of them — whatever they were supposed to be right now.

He said it himself, they’re not a “thing,” but Youngjae tastes bitterness in his mouth if he spits out the word “friend” to describe Jackson. 

Jackson’s lips felt so soft on his. Youngjae doesn’t know why he even thought about it before, and how he believed it would be rough on the edges, hungry and always wanting more. It was quite the opposite of how Jackson would look out for him when Youngjae would visit, actually, so he feels a little bit stupid for assuming something so wrong. And yet Jackson makes it feel so right by kissing him like this. 

He stays put for a second, waiting on any signs that let him know Youngjae doesn’t want this. His eyes are half-lidded, seeping in the sensation but mainly needing to see the younger’s reaction. Youngjae now closes his eyes, pursing his lips a little more forcefully to graze some more traction from the older. Jackson complies. 

They let their hands roam around each other, the room suddenly emanating too much warmth. Jackson cups his cheeks, traces the moles he’s memorized on the canvas of Youngjae’s face, and cards his fingers through the tresses of his hair. Youngjae is more timid, unsure of where his hands should lay so he opts to hold onto Jackson’s side. He remembers the nights he feels hot, actually, as he draws the blankets away from his body — but then it’d be too cold to not have anything over him. So Youngjae would turn, and find body heat from Jackson, grabbing ahold of his waist. Youngjae realizes how Jackson never budges with the initiated contact, and he chalked it up to him sleeping too soundly, too deep to realize the invasion of privacy. What Youngjae doesn’t know is that Jackson never saw it that way. 

He always saw Youngjae like this instead. 

They push and pull each other with the kiss, slightly separating for a quick gasp of air before finding each other’s lips once more. His soft caress turns a little heated, excited to let his tongue in and explore more of Youngjae. He lets him, uttering a quiet whimper emerging from his throat, from pleasure he won’t admit. Jackson smirks against him, and Youngjae tries to swat the older away from acting smug, but with a tug of the ends of his hair and the slick licks of Jackson’s tongue with his made it all the more impossible to do anything else but kiss him back. 

It feels so good to feel so wanted by him, Jackson thinks. 

Until Youngjae’s phone doesn’t just buzz anymore, but it rings. Obnoxiously. Too loud for Youngjae to not think, and too loud for Jackson to keep him distracted from what’s to come. They part, panting, unable to unlock their gazes from one another. A spot of saliva drips on the side of Youngjae’s reddened limps, and Jackson reaches over to wipe it off until Youngjae finally swats his arm away, and does it himself instead. 

“Sorry, I—” He doesn’t finish his thought as he finally answers the call. Jackson can only listen in. 

“Hey, hyung — yeah, I know. I’m sorry I didn’t text back, I — yeah, I should be in the apartment by then. Oh, do you want me to come over there instead?” Youngjae’s voice raised slightly at his question, something Jackson noticed when the younger would be pleasantly surprised about something. He frowns at how quick the tables have turned against him, again. 

“Okay, I’ll get you some ramen and beer. It’ll make you feel better. I’ll text you when I’m near, okay? Okay, hyung, I’ll see you. Okay.” Click. 

“So, it’s your turn to take care of him now, huh?” Jackson asks sardonically. Youngjae doesn’t answer, only places his phone in his pocket and hops off of the unruly bed. It feels eerily spacious now, and the light only shines on the spot Youngjae was at. He was in darkness and Jackson didn’t bother squinting to readjust his focus and look at him. His head was still spinning from the kiss, too fast, too unexpected. Ended too soon. 

“I gotta go, hyung,” was all Youngjae could tell him. Before, Jackson would understand. Their time together was never promised nor assured would be longer than what Youngjae can offer. But Jackson thought tonight would be different, and he still held on to that chance — no matter how much his heart is stricken to chains. 

“Hey, Youngjae.” Not a question. Just a statement. 

A pause too long. 

“Yeah, hyung.” 

“You have a spare key to my apartment yet you always knocked. Did you lose the key?” 

“No, I’ve always had it.” 

Jackson isn’t satisfied yet, but he ignores the feeling. “Alright.” 

Youngjae reaches the door, turns the knob and opens it up. The whole apartment is dark, but Youngjae knows his way out. He always did. 

“I’ll leave the spare key on the counter.” 

Jackson nods once. There, he got his answer. 

“Get there safe.” 

Youngjae doesn’t answer him, and leaves the bedroom door ajar. How mocking, Jackson surmises, watching the still of the night in his midst. He hears the front door open and close, and Jackson is still wide awake — waiting for the impossible to happen.

He falls asleep without closing the door. He never does now. 

**Author's Note:**

> ps. if you're wondering who the other guy is, i was imagning it to be jaebeom but i didn't want to write him in and then put him in the tags. idk i've been in an angsty mood towards 2jae lately? but i also wanted to write for my other ships which includes jackjae. this is the result of that.  
> pps. i haven't had the motivation to write at all recently, so i rly apologize if this came out shitty. i just wanted to put sth out there. 
> 
> thank you, still.
> 
> [find me on twt](https://www.twitter.com/917stars)   
> 


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